The Life of War

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
The life of war, both eerie and fascinating; Told in first-person by a soldier walking 'home' in the fierce wintertime winds.

Submitted: October 03, 2013

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Submitted: October 03, 2013

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The Life of War

 

The howling wind was tugging violently at my hair. As it was already left in uneven rips and tears, I could care less of whatever else happened to it. I had recently survived an attack; now it's time to get back to the base that called for me a month earlier. To fight a bloody battle for our county? How precious.

Many lives were lost this month. If only their pitiful souls weren't as red as the blood that now stains the face of snow. But I can care less. I never wanted to go to war; if ever, go to hell? Running or hiding, the war still affects you greatly.

You're always looking cautiously over your shoulders wherever you go and murdering for the sake of others. It's quite fun, to be honest, but commit a mortal sin? My pleasure. Many have died in the wretched hands of the enemy, including my dear friend, David. I remember carrying his dead body; His scarlet blood is still splattered over my frostbitten hands.

Spring was crawling slowly towards us. Our rations were cut scarce, so some of us died of hunger. Or, better yet, in a bloody battle. Everything is in ruins now. The life of war – both eerie and fascinating with the constant threat of death. But why be wary of it? Death is a wonderful thing.

Sanity has already slipped through my quivering fingers. The liking of death and murder? All is well, because sanity is for the weak. Our only solution now? Why, death, of course. Or even the gracious end of war. But, I assure you, that won't happen anytime soon. To burn in the depths of the unquenchable fire for the sinful crime of homicide? If only.


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